


You're Not Right Within

by geckoholic



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2010-12-02
Updated: 2010-12-02
Packaged: 2017-10-18 02:05:23
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 727
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/183782
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/geckoholic/pseuds/geckoholic
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p><em>From Sam's point of view, Dean's probably always appeared to be just a bit grabby.</em> - I'm a little hesistant to call it a 6.09 coda, but it ties in to that episode.</p>
            </blockquote>





	You're Not Right Within

**Author's Note:**

> Heavily inspired by [this gif](http://jericapng.tumblr.com/post/1625409524/come-on); I kept thinking about it, then thought about it some more, and then this happened.
> 
> Beta'd by the lovely akintay. ♥ All remaining mistakes are mine. And, this is yet another ficlet that wouldn't be in the world without kelzies' pep-talks. She also picked the title this time. 
> 
> Title is from "Skin" by Sade.

In the beginning, when Sam was little, it was a necessity. He had to be held upright so he didn't fall when he made his first steps, and since Dad was barely around, the hand on his back to ensure Sam didn't loose his balance was often Dean's.

It was Dean's hand Sam clutched tight on his first day of school. It was Dean's hand that kept him from doubling over or brushed the hair out of his face or felt for temperature when Sam was sick.

Approval got communicated by touch, too. When Sam put up a good fight during training, Dean squeezed Sam's shoulder. When Sam told him about his first kiss, beet-red but so proud of himself he was about to burst with it, Dean patted his back appreciatively. Hell, even those damn soccer games got crowned with a ruffle of Sam's hair, because Dean knew they meant something to him.

When they got back onto the road together after Stanford, it probably got a little obsessive. They had been separated for so long, and having Sam in sight just didn't suffice. He had to feel his brother, reassure himself by touch that he was there with him, safe. Then the visions started, and touch became comfort once again.

In Cold Oak, Dean didn't touch Sam once. He carried him to the car, and from the car to the cabin, but that was when Sam's body was still warm. As it got cold, Dean avoided any kind of contact, up until the moment he got to wrap his arms around his alive-again brother.

After Dean came back from hell things changed. Dean didn't want any kind of touch, nearly jumped out of his skin when strangers so much as brushed by him on the street. Physical contact with Sam was still acceptable, but he didn't seek it out. Then, it was Sam who was constantly reaching out, whose hands lingered just a little longer than necessary, grabbed just a little tighter, who took every opportunity to feel what had been lost to him, for months, alive under his hands.

Or at least that's what Dean figures it's been about, because that's what he's doing now. He doesn't actively want to, because this isn't really his brother. The most important part of him, what makes Sam _Sam_ , isn't at home at the moment. But the sheer, simple proximity to something that looks, feels and smells like Sam leaves him unable to resist. Ever so often, before he even realises he's doing it, his hands reach out: a squeeze, a stroke, a pat. He doubts that it strikes what-used-to-be-his-brother as odd, and if it does, he doesn't show it.

From Sam's point of view, Dean's probably always appeared to be just a bit grabby.

Being touched by this Sam is a whole different matter, though. Dean himself didn't even expect it to be different, but the blind trust in his brother, the knowledge that whatever happens, come hell and high water, Sam would never hurt him? It's missing. Something deep inside of Dean has stopped recognizing Sam as family, lost that trust some time between being dangled in front of a vampire and used as bait and getting abducted by... Well, aliens, apparently.

But it's never been obvious, not like right now.

Right now, Dean's standing in a small, dingy motel shower with way too much water pressure, drops of water like little pinpricks on his skin, the shower curtain sticking to his back and the faint smell of humid mildew in his nose, and tries to work through the fact that the touch of something with the face of his brother, aimed to be comforting, just made him almost throw up in fear and refusal.

This situation is almost worse than the year he spent thinking that Sam was dead and in the cage. No, scratch that, it _is_ much worse. Because Sam's still in hell, the real Sam, the brother that he loves and that loves him back, while this shell walks around and keeps the gaping wound open, rips it open wider every day. Points out what's missing with every step he makes, every word he says. Shows Dean the surface, the physical form, but denies him anything beyond it.

And all the while, every fiber in Dean keeps screaming for his brother.


End file.
